A lithely swallow.
A dipping in--
laying into the flesh.
Finding its
cracks, burrowing
deeper. Pushing
through that velvet sound--
the emptiness
the melancholy
the desperate cling
of the sweat.
Dangling just off
the tip of the fingers: a cliff.
Before the ragged
sealine stretches
its tendrils
all-engulfing.